


L'Accademia Romana di Arti Culinarie

by dreamcatcher (darcangell23)



Category: Glee
Genre: Chef!Kurt, Culinary, Italy, Journalist!Blaine, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-15 16:11:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1311031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darcangell23/pseuds/dreamcatcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Journalist Blaine Anderson has been sent to Italy to write a full length magazine feature exposé on world renown chef, Kurt Hummel. But it seems he just might have bit off more than he can chew. A star chef and mentee of the one and only Chef Gordon Ramsay, Kurt isn't the easiest of people to get along with. What's worse is Blaine won't be able to go home until he's written the entire magazine. Can he and Kurt find a way to work past their differences and get along? Or will the flame of their budding love sizzle out like a stove fire?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so a few things. I am still writing From A - Z of course, just need to figure out what exactly is going to happen in the Gryffindor chapter. But I needed something else to do between that update and the last one. I did start a couple of unfinished one-shots.
> 
> As for Blaine Anderson and the Elusive Queen of Hearts, please be aware that I am not abandoning it by any means. I have just hit a road block with muse for it. I know what I want to happen in the story, it's the how I'm struggling with right now. I've contemplated beginning the next chapter in the POV of a completely different character in the story but I'm not sure how I'm going to work with it yet so please be patient with me while I figure that out.
> 
> In the meantime, I've come up with this after reading another fantastic fic here on AO3. I guess it's an attempt to help push my creative juices passed the block in my mind.
> 
> A few minor notes, * = L'Accademia Romana di Arti Culinarie translates to The Roman Academy of Culinary Arts and no, I don't know if there is such a place. All Italian in this story was translated by google translation so I apologize if it is essentially wrong. I'm no expert and I know gt isn't always reliable.
> 
> Enough of my rambling though. Rating is for later chapters. Comments and kudos make me smile. Enjoy!

Blaine trudged slowly down the corridors of the office, passed the many cubicles of his peers, avoiding the eyes on him as he made the walk of death.

Dead man walking they called it. That stretch of inevitable carpet leading right up to the door of the Chief, his boss, Sue Sylvester.

It was one thing to get called into Sue's office for a known reason. It was another when she sent her assistant Becky to tell you she wanted to see you, with no explanation whatsoever.

Blaine swallowed and tugged at the bow tie at his neck, suddenly feeling like he may have tied it too tight. He knew that despite his work, Sue did not particularly like him. Her extremely popular publication, Sylvester Magazine, covered a wide range of topics, everything that was the best of the best in Sue's humble opinion. Well, if you could call her opinion humble. The magazine literally covered everything, with a large segment devoted particularly to cheerleading, for which Sue had a soft spot.

But she didn't like Blaine. And why? Because Blaine was a music columnist, something the woman particularly despised. Blaine was allowed space for maybe one full page article if he was lucky. But mostly it was just a column in the magazine's small miscellaneous section at the back of the publication, behind everything Sue deemed to be important stuff.

So yes, Sue didn't like him and Blaine could only think of a handful of scenarios that could take place once he set foot in her office. The most likely of those was that she would tell him his column was a waste of magazine space and he was fired. He was not at all prepared for what would happen.

Swallowing again, trying to retain his composure, Blaine raised a fist and knocked on the door.

"Come in Anderson," he heard Sue call. He straightened his bow tie and suit jacket before opening the door and stepping into the space that was Sue's office. She was reading over the latest issue of her own publication, sitting back in her desk chair with her legs crossed. She removed her glasses as Blaine entered the room. "Have a seat." She nodded to the chair in front of her desk and Blaine sat. Sue leaned forward. "Do you have any idea why I called you here?"

Blaine shook his head. "Not a clue Miss. Sylvester," he replied, not daring to call her by her first name.

"Oh young Burt Reynolds, we've been over this. Call me Sue," she insisted. Blaine didn't have the slightest clue why she was being all buddy buddy like so suddenly and to be frank, it scared him. "Let me ask you something Anderson," she went on, folding her hands over her desk and tilting her head to the side. "Have you ever been to Italy?"

Whatever Blaine had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that. He cleared his throat. "Once. I have family there. We went when I was about three. I don't remember it though," he admitted.

Sue regarded him for a moment. "Yeah we'll just say you haven't been there," she said, sliding her glasses back on and rummaging in her drawer. She pulled out a magazine, one Blaine was surprised to see was not her own publication. She placed it on the desk and slid it across to him.

"World Chef?" Blaine asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion as he glanced at her from the publication. He immediately darted his eyes back down to it, suddenly finding the young pale man in a chef's uniform that graced the cover incredibly interesting.

"Do you know who that is?" Sue asked after a moment of watching Blaine stare down at the chef on the cover of the magazine.

Blaine shook his head. "No, but he's incredibly attractive," he got out before clapping a hand to his mouth. Damn lack of filter. He couldn't be talking about things like that around his boss. Sue however, chuckled lightly.

"Oh, he is, isn't he? Only one year older than you Anderson," she replied with a cheeky wink.

Blaine looked up from the magazine again. "I don't see what this has to do with Italy," he said.

Sue leaned back in her chair, playing her fingers together. "That, Anderson is world renown Chef Kurt Hummel. He's already received the highest achievement a chef can achieve, an impressive three times. He's well on his way to being in league with great chefs like Gordon, Joe, and Graham." Blaine felt slightly amused at the possible notion that Sue watched MasterChef.

"Okay, but I still don't see what this has to do with Italy, or me for that matter," he said carefully.

"Kurt is teaching at an elite academy in Rome," she said. Well that covered the Italy connection. "I've been granted the right to do a full length exposé on him." She leaned forward once more. "Do you know what that means Anderson?" Blaine shook his head. "It means I'm going to publish an entire issue dedicated solely to him and I want you to write it."

The twenty-three year old froze solid in his seat with his eyes wide as saucers. An entire issue? She wanted him to write an entire issue on this guy?

"Wait," he said slowly. "I'm a music columnist. He's a chef. I don't know the first thing about writing cooking articles."

Sue laughed wholeheartedly at his admission and really, it was kind of strange to hear her laugh like that. It seemed out of character for her. Blaine was a little put off.

"Oh Anderson, a journalist can write about anything. I'm not asking you to do this because you know about cooking," she said. Blaine just gave her a confused look. "I'm asking you to do this because small segment of the magazine or not, you're my best journalist."

Blaine was speechless. He stared at her stunned for several long moments. Here he was, thinking his boss hated him and that he was about to get fired and instead she was telling him he was her best journalist and that she wanted him to do the special exposé on this world renown chef.

Swallowing hard, Blaine had to check he heard her right. "Let me get this straight. You want me, a music columnist who knows absolutely nothing about culinary, to write a full length magazine exposé on a world class chef?" he repeated.

"That's what I said young Burt Reynolds," she said with a slight nod.

"Does this entail going to Italy?" he asked hesitantly.

"I hope you have your passport Anderson," was her reply and Blaine had his answer.

He was going to Italy.

* * *

Blaine had been looking forward to going to Rome. That was until he discovered how incredibly easy it was to get lost there. So many backstreets and alleyways, and turns that all looked the same and forks and he must have passed that cheese shop three times now. It all looked the same.

The morning's confidence and excitement had been drowned out not long after he set foot out of his hotel. The map in his hands wasn't doing him any favors. It was merely getting him even more lost. What was more embarrassing was the fact that he could speak fluent Italian and still he was struggling.

He made it a note that he ought to come to Rome more often after this. Furthermore, he didn't have a clue how long he was going to be here. Sue sent him off with a one way ticket and told him to contact her once he had written the entire issue and only then would she buy him his way back. Typical Sue.

But this was getting frustrating. He was supposed to be at L'Accademia Romana di Arti Culinarie* forty-five minutes ago and if the rumors that Kurt had been mentored by Chef Gordon Ramsay himself were true, the chef wouldn't be pleased with his tardiness, sense of direction be damned.

He decided that the best thing he could do, would be to ask someone where it was located.

"Mi scusi?" ("Excuse me?") he asked a random passerby. The young Italian woman looked up and Blaine did not miss the body check she gave him with her eyes. He attempted to shake it off. "Mi potete aiutare?" ("Can you help me?")

"Sì," she replied with a nod of her head. Blaine bit his lip. He could keep speaking in Italian but it had been a while since he'd conversed in it, given that he wasn't very close with his family. So he took a quick gamble.

"Um…parli inglese?" ("Um…do you speak English?") he asked carefully.

"Sì," she said again. "What do you need?" she asked then, her accent a little thick but her tone flirty and Blaine licked his lips nervously, hoping she wouldn't bother to try and ask him out or anything.

Letting a breath of relief out at the fact that he didn't have to speak to her in Italian, Blaine offered a small apologetic smile. "I'm kind of lost. I'm looking for L'Accademia Romana di Arti Culinarie. I was supposed to be there nearly an hour ago."

"Oh! Are you a new student?" she asked in much more interest than most people would probably express.

Blaine shook his head. "Um…no. I'm a journalist. I'm here to do an exposé on Chef Kurt Hummel."

The girl's eyes flashed and she narrowed them slightly. She muttered something under her breath in Italian that Blaine was unable to make out.

"Why would you want to do an exposé on that asshole?" she asked and Blaine bit back a laugh because well, if was kind of funny to hear an Italian saying that word but she did not seem to have a good opinion of Kurt. He stored that information in his mind for later.

"My boss wants to put out an issue all about him. She assigned me to do it," he replied, indicating that it wasn't his idea.

The girl scoffed. "I'll show you to the academy but good luck. He doesn't let in just anyone. I have phenomenal skill but he turned me away because he said it was burnt. Burnt! It was just a little corner!"

Blaine subconsciously rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, Chef Ramsay was his mentor I heard."

"Oh but Kurt makes Chef Ramsay look like a kitten," she said. "Come on, I will show you how to get there."

Blaine was grateful for her help, even if she didn't seem the most eager to help out at all. Well, she didn't seem eager to speak about the chef. But if what she had just told him was any indication, Blaine was not at all looking forward to what Kurt would do about his lateness.

It was quiet as she lead him through the streets. Blaine tried to remember the turns they took so he could at least find his way back to where he had stopped her but that was useless seeing as first of all, they took so many, and secondly, he had been lost when he approached her so where would he go from there if he could get back?

After a few minutes, he merely gave up and prepared himself for what he was likely about to face.

* * *

"Daniela, troppa farina!" ("Danielle, too much flour!") Kurt yelled, picking up a fistful of the white powder and carelessly throwing it in her face. Kurt didn't always yell in Italian. His students knew English mostly because Kurt wasn't confident enough in his knowledge of the language, but he sometimes did because it cut at the Italian students much worse than yelling in English did.

"Sì. Scusate Chef Hummel," ("Yes. Sorry Chef Hummel.") Daniela replied, tossing her started batter in the trash and moving to start over. Kurt clapped his hands loudly in front of her face and she picked up the speed.

"Faster! Faster! You'll never work in a high rise kitchen if you're this slow!" he spat out in English. "Santana!" he yelled then, turning to face his kitchen. The Latina came running up to him and Kurt looked at his watch. "That journalist here yet?"

Santana smirked and shook her head. "No. He probably got lost," she said nonchalantly.

"Amateur," Kurt spit out, shaking his head. "He's an hour and ten minutes late. If he didn't take the time to find the way here before he had to come for the meeting, he's not worth my time." He turned around and glanced at the kitchen. "You lot will never be chefs! Santana, you're in charge."

Frustrated, Kurt gripped his chef's hat and stormed out of the kitchen, walking through the long halls of the academy toward his office. He needed some advice and now was the perfect time to call for it. If that journalist arrived while he was on the phone, well, he could wait. After all, he was the one who decided to be late. Why should Kurt show up right when he came?

Of course, that was the moment the girl showed up with Blaine in tow. The twenty-three year old thanked her and hesitantly made his way up into the building and down a hall. He rounded a corner only to run smack dab into someone, causing Blaine to fall flat on his ass.

"Oi!" shouted an unfamiliar voice. "Why don't you learn to watch where you're going?! You're not wearing black glasses so I would assume you're not blind!"

Blaine blinked up from his spot on the floor. Standing above him, brushing the sleeves of his surprisingly stark clean chef's jacket was the very man he had come here for and he was indeed like a mini Chef Ramsay.

But Blaine decided he wasn't going to let it get to him. Instead, he pulled himself to his feet and plastered a bright smile on his face.

"Chef Kurt Hummel?" Blaine asked, holding out a hand. "I'm Blaine Anderson. I'm the journalist who's doing your exposé," he introduced brightly.

Kurt looked him up and down with an air of disapproval before he said two simple words. "You're late." Without giving Blaine a chance to apologize or explain, he breezed right on passed him and disappeared down the hall.

Yep. This certainly was not going to be easy.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys! Here is chappie two! I know Kurt's somewhat of an asshole in this story so far but that will change with time. Also, warning for the mention of Finn's death in this chapter. I realize so far this story had been mostly Blaine heavy but that'll change too, once we get more of the two them interacting with each other. This chapter Features Rachel and Sam and some background on how Kurt ended up a master chef!
> 
> Comments and kudos make me smile! Enjoy!

Kurt was more terse than usual. The moment he'd entered his office, he'd forgone the phone call and drew a stack of exams toward him, harshly marking them off and shaking his head in frustration at how little his students seemed to get correct.

"They need a lesson on paying attention," he muttered just as there came a knock on the door. Kurt barely glanced up at it. "Whoever you are, I'm busy go away!" he shouted, not even caring about how rude he sounded.

But instead of silence at the door, the knob turned and the door sprang open. Kurt tensed his shoulders. There were only two people who would enter his office uninvited and one of them didn't knock first.

He dropped the pen on top of the stack and looked up resignedly.

"What are you doing here Rachel?" he asked, tone clipped and eyebrow raised.

"Is that any way to greet your best friend?" Rachel Berry, Broadway extraordinaire back in New York stood in the doorway to Kurt's office, holding a miniature pincher and raising a pair of dark shades to sit atop her brunette head.

Kurt wrinkled his nose at the dog. "Kindly escort that animal out of my office."

Rachel ignored the request and instead, sidled forward to drop into the chair on the opposite side of the desk. Kurt rolled his eyes. Just like Rachel to walk right in and take over like she belonged there.

"So, who was the gorgeous stranger standing in the hallway and looking adorably confused?" she asked instead, completely sidestepping Kurt's request and moving on to some topic that had no relevance to the previous one.

The master chef wrinkled his nose as he picked up the pen and resumed his harsh marking of the exams on his desk.

"Some journalist. He's here to write an exposé and apparently is less than professional," he said without looking up from what he was doing. "He showed up over an hour late. I don't have time to give to him on a schedule to begin and he decides being late is the perfect thing to continue to waste my time," he rambled on.

Rachel sat there for a moment, stroking the head of the dog she held in her arms. "Well, if nothing else, he's very cute," she finally said.

"He's all yours," Kurt replied in a bored voice.

The brunette starlet rolled her eyes. "Please Kurt, you know I've given up men ever since—"

Kurt cut her off. "Do you have to mention his death every time you show up Rachel?" he snapped. Rachel looked affronted. Kurt carelessly dropped the pen back onto his stack of exams and stood up, placing both hands palm flat on the desk. "I get it. You still miss him terribly. So do I!" he went on. "But wallowing in woes about it every time you're here won't make it any better. Finn wouldn't have wanted this. He would have wanted you to move on and be happy. What happened to getting married at twenty-five or by it?"

Rachel swallowed. "I'm too busy for marriage."

"Lousy excuse Rachel," Kurt quipped, dropping unceremoniously back into his chair. "If you're too busy for marriage, you're too busy to fly all the way out here to see me."

"Kurt that's absurd!" Rachel replied.

"He has a point man hands," came Santana's voice as the Latina strutted into the office. Rachel threw her a glare and Kurt let out a sigh.

"What is it Santana?" he asked in a tired voice.

The Latina smirked and straightened the chef's hat on her head. "I was just wondering what you wanted me to do with the sexy hobbit standing stupidly in the hallway."

Kurt sighed again and looked up at her. He thought for a moment. "Have Sam show him to the dorms. If the idiot can't follow directions he might as well stay here so he's not late anymore. I can't afford to lose more time due to his idiocy," he said carefully.

Santana nodded her head and turned to make her leave. She stopped in the doorway and looked back at Rachel.

"Nice dog Berry. You almost look better than it," she said. Before Rachel could retort, she sauntered out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

"You're just going to let her talk to me like that?!" she said incredulously to Kurt, who had resumed marking the exams once more.

"She's Santana. What do you expect me to do?" he replied without looking up.

Rachel huffed. "Fine," she said, standing from her seat. "I'll be back later."

"Oh joy," Kurt said in a bored tone of voice. Rachel huffed again, turned on her heel, and swept out of the office. Kurt let out another sigh, this one in relief that he could finally have some peace.

* * *

Blaine was still standing in the hallway looking genuinely confused. He certainly had not associated the smiling pale man on the World Chef magazine cover with the extremely rude and non-smiling man he had just met. Was it all an act? Was it a façade? Or was it true that Chef Kurt Hummel really was worse than Gordon Ramsay?

"Hey hobbit!" came a voice, snapping Blaine out of his reverie. He turned to see a Latina woman striding his way and blinked rapidly in succession. "Follow me," she said with a roll of her eyes.

Blaine didn't have any clue what was going on but he did as she directed him to. He followed her.

The Latina said nothing as they walked, leading Blaine down one corridor after another until finally reaching a set of double doors that appeared to lead into a vast kitchen. Here, she stopped and turned around to face him.

"Okay, listen up hobbit. This is the kitchen. Touch anything and Hummel will have you skinned alive, got it?" Blaine gulped and nodded his head carefully. "Good. We'll only be here a minute," she added lightly, turning to enter the kitchen and Blaine followed her in. To be safe, he stopped just inside the doorway.

Blaine watched the Latina woman cross the kitchen to approach a tall blonde man - who was really quite striking, though not as much so as Kurt himself - and start up a conversation with him. He watched as the guy pulled his hands from the salad he had been tossing and wiped them with a towel that was hanging from his apron. He followed the Latina back over to Blaine.

"Trouty Mouth, Hobbit, Hobbit, Trouty Mouth," the Latina said by way of introduction before scurrying off to yell at one of the other students.

"Is she always like that?" Blaine asked, watching her go.

"Santana?" the blonde asked. "Yeah. It's kind of just her way of showing she cares." Blaine just gaped at the woman again. "I'm Sam by the way, Sam Evans," he introduced properly, holding out a hand and Blaine was relieved to hear he was actually American. He was worried everyone he met here was Italian. Sure he was fluent in the language but it was just easier to converse in English.

"Blaine Anderson," Blaine replied, taking Sam's hand for a shake. "I'm here to do an exposé on Chef Hummel," he went on. Sam frowned ever so slightly.

"Good luck with that. He doesn't really like anyone, except Santana." It was Blaine's turn to frown and he looked dazedly around the kitchen, watching a girl who seemed panicky over a cake she was trying to decorate. "He wasn't always such a guarded prick though." Sam looked like he immediately regretted calling his teacher that and bit his lip, drawing attention to the fact that he had a rather big mouth. "Don't tell him I said that."

Blaine nodded resolutely and awkwardly gave the blonde a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "What do you think made him that way?" he asked, eyes never leaving the girl struggling with the cake.

Sam let out a sigh as he watched Santana scold someone else for a moment. "We're not sure. Kurt's always had a tough outer shell but he used to be so compassionate and caring about his friends and the health of his father. In short, other people in his life used to matter more to him and then he started training with Chef Ramsay and after that, he was never same."

Blaine was quiet for a moment. "So you knew Kurt before all this?" he asked. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, he, Santana, and I went to high school together. Although Kurt was always an amazing cook, culinary wasn't his first choice of career."

This got Blaine curious. "Oh?" he prompted, tearing his eyes to look at the blonde.

Sam shook his head. "His dream was to be on Broadway like his best friend Rachel but then she got accepted to NYADA and Kurt didn't and it kind of changed his priorities. So he focused on fashion and applied for FIT and Parsons but he didn't get into to either of those either," Sam explained, looking slight downtrodden. "I think it shook his confidence and he was kind of bitter for a while."

"So what happened?" Blaine asked.

Sam was quiet for just a moment. "He caught an episode of MasterChef one night and had some sort of epiphany. The rest is history. He still won't tell anyone how he managed to get in with Chef Ramsay though."

Blaine contemplated that thought for a moment before he asked Sam, "So how did you and Santana end up here?"

"When Rachel refused to move her studies to RADA, the London equivalent of NYADA to support her best friend, Santana stepped up to take the plunge. She's always been a harsh kind of friend but she really cares. And she thought Kurt shouldn't be in England all on his own. She ended up taking some culinary and food management courses and she's now kind of his sous chef I guess you could say," he explained with a nod of his head. "As for me, I'm a year younger than them and when I graduated high school I forwent college and set out on a modeling career."

"A model?" Blaine replied, looking him up and down. "I can see it."

Sam cringed and forced a smile. "Yeah but as it turns out, modeling became very bad for my personal image of myself. I had some eating issues. Eventually it came to a head and I had to get out of it. By the time I did, Kurt had just started teaching here so I made the drastic decision to apply and got in."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Blaine's lips. "That's ironic, going from having issues with food to learning how to properly prepare it."

Sam shrugged. "Yeah well, it helped me learn to love food again and get back on track with being the healthiest me I can be."

Blaine nodded his head and looked back at the girl struggling with the cake. "That's good than."

It was Sam's turn to nod. "Anyway, come on," he said, waving a hand and turning to leave the kitchen.

"Where are we going?" Blaine asked curiously, following him out.

"Santana told me that Kurt wants me to take you to the dorms," Sam replied. This confused Blaine greatly.

"Why?" he asked.

The blonde shrugged. "Something about him saying if you stay here, you'll be on time from now on and therefore won't be wasting precious time he doesn't really have to spare you."

Blaine blanched at that, feeling the color drain from his face.

"He really doesn't like me, does he?" he asked quietly.

"Kurt doesn't really like anyone," Sam replied.

Conversation stilted then as they walked quietly through the academy. Blaine was lost in his thoughts. What could have happened during his training with Chef Ramsay that had made Kurt into this person he felt the man didn't really want to be? It was as though Kurt was suddenly forcing himself to guard all his emotions, even from those he actually cared about.

And than there was the fact of trying to figure out how he was going to get his stuff from the hotel. He decided to ask Sam if he would help him out.

"Hey Sam?" he finally spoke up as the two of them began climbing a set of stairs.

"Yeah man?" he asked, turning to glance over his shoulder at Blaine.

Blaine bit his lip. "Would you mind maybe coming back to the hotel with me to get my things later?" he asked timidly.

"Sure thing. With my help, you won't get lost, yeah?" Blaine blushed with embarrassment and Sam laughed. "I'll let you in on a little secret. Sometimes even people who were born and raised here still get lost," he added with a wink.

That did make Blaine feel a little better and he managed a small smile as the two of them emerged into a hallway.

"You can stay in my room," Sam told him. "I don't have a roommate currently, so the bed is free."

"Thank you," Blaine said, not able to show enough gratitude. He couldn't believe how nice this guy was in comparison to the man himself. Blaine was easily beginning to understand that this assignment was going to be more of a nightmare than a dream come true. Or maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to pull Kurt out of that guarded shell.

"Don't mention it," Sam said, leading him to a door about halfway down the corridor and pulling out a key. "Home sweet home," he added, unlocking the door and pushing it open. "It isn't much."

Blaine stepped into the room and noticed it was the size of a small double bed hotel room. Sam's side of the room was stocked with photos of friends and books and magazines. A guitar leaned against one wall. His laptop and an extra chef's hat sat on the desk while another apron hung on the back of the chair. The other side of the room was completely void of anyone living there. The bed was dressed in sheets with the comforter neatly folded to the foot of the bed with two pillows resting atop it. It certainly looked much more comfortable than Blaine's room back at the hotel.

"It's perfect, thank you," he said with a smile.

"No need to thank me. Just trying to be friendly."

"You are much better at it than Chef Kurt," Blaine said with a grin. Sam laughed wholeheartedly.

"Well, who knows, maybe you'll be the one to change that," he replied with wink.

Blaine flushed again. The idea that he could be the one person to change Kurt was a little overwhelming in itself but he wasn't going to get his hopes up. He knew the man didn't like him already.

"Maybe first impressions can be salvaged," he said with a new determination.

"Wouldn't hurt to try," Sam told him, grinning and starting to back out of the room. "I have to get back to the kitchen now but make yourself comfortable and later, we'll go get your things."

"Thanks again," Blaine repeated.

"Don't mention it," Sam said again. With one last fleeting smile, he was gone, leaving Blaine to his own devices.

Operation change Kurt's opinion of him was now in effect. Best of luck to him. He figured he was going to need it.


End file.
